Arcana

The Royal Arcane Higher Academy of Cusco stood beside the bustling spice docks of Silver Horn Bay. Covering seventy hectares, it was the Benedict Empire's first institution dedicated to training Arcanists. It had been founded 212 years ago, its predecessor an ancient organization known as the "Arcane Tower."

Arcana was an entirely new system of knowledge. The earliest Arcanist was a Wizard named Ke Sok. Born in the impoverished mountain regions of the Divania Duchy as a Dant Rao, he gradually displayed unusual abilities as he grew. Under the guidance of a Deer School master, he immersed himself in Hanan and became a Wizard.

No specific records explained how Ke Sok discovered the power of Arcana. The only account stated that, at the age of sixty, during his birthday banquet, he removed his Wizard's robe before his many disciples and changed into a bell-blue Arcane shirt.

Unlike Wizards, who focused on the spiritual world, Arcana paid greater attention to material entities. Its central concept was "Sculpting"—using Arcane Energy to alter the structure of matter.

Arcane Energy was an unstable energy that drifted through the material world. Arcanists drew it in through the power of their minds and made use of it. Since they did not need to enter Hanan's domain, Arcanists did not have to fear contamination or mutation of the spiritual realm. At first, people held great expectations for this miraculous power. After Ke Sok's death, his disciples established an Arcanist organization called the "Arcane Tower."

At first, everything went smoothly, until a famous sudden incident—the [Fall of the Moon].

For an entire month, Ke Sok's disciples died one after another. Only a small number of those with poor skills survived. Most terrifying of all, they had not died by accident, but of natural old age—if the speed at which they aged could be considered natural...

People discovered in horror that the more skillfully one mastered Arcane Energy, the faster one aged. There were no illnesses or abnormalities involved, only perfectly natural aging.

It was a cursed power, many said.

The West Kaimon Church, which had long been watching them, swooped down like carrion vultures smelling rotten flesh. They investigated Arcana's origins but found no answers. There were no expected demon sacrifices or blood rituals, and the inquisitors nearly returned empty-handed. Fortunately, they discovered another shocking fact.

Arcana was not entirely unrelated to Hanan. During the process of mental guidance, its practitioners still inevitably entered Hanan, though they did not need to draw power from it.

A pseudo-Wizard sect. This was the cruel verdict the West Kaimon Church imposed upon the Arcanists, and it was also an extreme insult. Arcanists had always claimed that Wizards were shamans immersed in superstition and delusion, remnants of humanity's dark age.

The West Kaimon Church's declaration provoked fierce resistance from the Arcanists. Yet they were few in number and lacked arms. They were quickly crushed—killed or driven into flight—and the once flourishing study of Arcana rapidly fell silent.

But as the old proverb said: when the west goes dark, the east lights up. Arcana's great power had never been forgotten. While the western world completely banned the study of Arcana, it was reborn in the East Kainia Empire—the Benedict Empire.

Thanks to the classically dramatic meeting between Master Zelak and Waina VII, Arcana took root in the eastern lands. Though this power came at the cost of one's lifespan, it still drew many outstanding Wizards to devote themselves to it, and it developed an Arcanist philosophy of its own—the Civilization Dedication Theory.

Arcanists saw themselves as candles. Though weak and dim, they could illuminate humanity's path through the dark forest. They used themselves as fuel so humanity would no longer fall into the abyss of superstition and blind obedience.

The day shines bright, the night stretches vast.

I am the long candle, casting my torchlight in every direction.

These were the words Master Zelak had engraved upon the gates when the Royal Arcane Higher Academy of Cusco was completed. They were also the oath every new Arcanist swore upon enrollment. Once they stepped through those gates, fewer than twenty years would remain of their lives.

That was what Arcanists were: a short-lived and somber group in outsiders' eyes, though few knew of the flame burning in their hearts.

"Good day, Professor Kulin."

Beneath the tree-lined avenue, a middle-aged man in an indigo robe strode forward. The students around him, dressed in pale blue robes, greeted him one after another, but he merely nodded coldly in response.

Incidentally, all the trees around here had twisted into unnatural shapes. Nearby residents often claimed it was pollution, but the Arcanists knew it was merely students practicing on the trees, despite the school's repeated prohibition.

Sculpting could alter not only nonliving matter, but living matter as well. Arcanists generally did not do so, however, because flesh and blood were too "precise." The slightest mistake could bring serious consequences.

After passing through the Chemistry and Physics departments, the man arrived before the "Blue Tower," a blue nine-story tower that also served as the principal's office.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Grelinas."

Though his tone was cold, the young woman at the reception desk seemed accustomed to it. Smiling, she pressed the electric bell on the desk and pointed toward the door beside her.

"Please go in, Mr. Kulin."

The middle-aged Arcanist climbed the spiraling staircase until he reached a thick redwood door, then knocked lightly several times.

"Come in, Comrade Kulin."

He pushed open the door and entered a spacious office. Enormous floor-to-ceiling windows allowed sunlight to flood the room. Bookshelves packed full of books stood on both sides, while exquisite handicrafts filled the cabinets. A massive desk stood in the center.

Behind the desk sat a smiling, slightly plump old man. His graying hair was neatly combed back. He wore an indigo robe with long purple shoulder guards on either side, an honor exclusive to Royal Arcanists.

Grelinas Lebizon, the current dean of the Royal Arcane Academy of Cusco, came from the renowned Lebizon Family of Wizards in the Benedict Empire. Though only thirty-five years old, he looked nearly sixty.

"Comrade Grelinas, the Snowcliff Observatory has sent new information. Team Seven has completely lost contact and has most likely been wiped out."

The middle-aged man's words made Grelinas frown, making him appear even older.

"Have the positions of the seven specimens been confirmed?"

"They have, but just as before, they have gathered more and more of their kind. Unless we deploy a considerable number of regular troops, I personally do not think any operation has much chance of success."

With his hands behind his back, Grelinas walked to the window. From there, he could overlook the entire academy.

"Then what was the Snowcliff Observatory team's vote?"

"To suspend operations."

After a long silence, the aged Arcane master turned around and said regretfully, "Then let us leave it at that for now. Have them write a summary report. The committee will discuss the matter in a week and determine the next work plan."

"Yes."

Just as the middle-aged man was about to turn and leave, he suddenly remembered something and stopped. Grelinas looked at him in confusion.

"Is there anything else?"

"Comrade Grelinas, it seems some Blood-Worship Cult fanatics have recently infiltrated the capital. Should the Security Department deploy additional personnel?"

"I heard about that as well. Those lunatics are capable of anything. For the safety of the faculty and students, I have already petitioned the Emperor to dispatch a squad of Secret Guards to assist in protecting the campus."

"Then that is all. Farewell."

Once the door closed again, Grelinas returned to his chair and took out his beloved pipe. As smoke drifted through the room, a strange fragrance filled the air.

"What a pity. Why are they so special?"

As he stared blankly into the air, the enormous desk suddenly trembled. Then an opening appeared in its surface, and a pale blue crystal surrounded by mysterious light floated out.

"Because they are very likely not lifeforms from this world."

That was the voice that came from the crystal.

Grelinas nodded, his thoughts gradually drifting to that distant place—a desolate, terrifying wasteland filled with gravel and rock...

When Guk reached out to Bucktooth for steel, the fellow had been quite unwilling. He insisted that he had no steel. Only when Guk personally went into his nest and dug several heavy steel ingots out from beneath where he slept did he reluctantly hand over most of it, even exposing Idea Guy in the process.

Guk handed the rare metals he had collected to Agum and ordered him to build at least fifteen more catapults. It was not an unreasonable demand.

More than thirty days later, news finally came from underground. Snail-shell Squig had stopped moving forward. Of course, it was not because it had died, but because it had begun moving upward. Sok and the others had found their target!

"Right there!"

Following the direction of Sok's finger, Guk looked up and saw grayish-brown rock. He recognized it as a kind of hard stone.

"Looks pretty thick."

Aluba, who had come along, tilted his head and muttered quietly.

"I know."

Guk shot him a glare, making him obediently shut his mouth. He could barely contain his irritation. Things were far more difficult than he had imagined.

"Boss! I got an idea."

Sok jumped up.

"Say it."

"When we ran into hard rocks before, we roasted 'em with fire first. After they got hot, we splashed cold water on 'em, and the rocks cracked!"

"Is that true?"

Guk excitedly grabbed the fellow and lifted him off the ground.

"Y-yes, Boss!"

"Then show me now!"

"Right away!"

The Snotlings swiftly got to work. Some went to fetch fuel—Squig oil wax—while others piled rocks into a circular mound.

The fire was quickly lit. Sok tricked several blowers out of One-Ear, and the Snotlings took turns blowing air onto the blaze. To keep the flames pressed against the rock wall, they built the stone pile into a half-circle.

Guk, meanwhile, sat on a rock drinking and playing with Big Hopper.

The process continued for a long time, until faint cracking sounds began to come from the rock. Sok hurriedly ordered the Snotlings to bring over the prepared cold water.

Amid a series of loud sizzling sounds, thick white smoke filled the surrounding space. Guk put down his drink and stepped closer. The once grayish-brown rock had been blackened by smoke, and cracks covered its surface.

"My turn."

Guk spat into his palm, snatched up a pickaxe, and drove it viciously into the rock.

CRASH!

In an instant, the seemingly solid rock crumbled apart like rotten wood. Flying fragments struck the watching Snotlings, making them howl in pain.

"This method's not bad!"

With this special method and his terrifying strength, Guk's strike gouged away nearly half a meter of rock. The pickaxe was basically ruined as well, but the results were undeniably good.

"Keep working. I'll have White Helmet come help you! Stop when you can more or less hear sounds from above."

With things finally taking a turn for the better, Guk's mood improved. After arranging the manpower, he carried Dragon Tooth and headed alone toward the lower levels for one of his recently favorite forms of entertainment.

Slaughtering those damned giant bugs.